


Selfish

by glacier (kaashmoneybb)



Series: Earth 22 [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alpha Miya Atsumu, Alpha Miya Osamu, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Childhood Friends, Dadtsumu, M/M, Omega Akaashi Keiji, Omega Verse, References to Drugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:14:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28506534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaashmoneybb/pseuds/glacier
Summary: Akaashi Keiji is set to someday ascend to the top of the Akaashi-gumi, the largest yakuza syndicate in Japan. He's looking for more out of life, so he starts dating Bokuto Koutarou, who's a member of the Shinsuke family, responsible for a majority of the country's amphetamine trade. His childhood friend and longtime advisor Miya Osamu gets left in the dust.Miya Osamu has considered Keiji his closest friend for years, but realizes he might see him as more than that when he has to deal with the fact that Akaashi is now dating someone else.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Series: Earth 22 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2088144
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	Selfish

**Author's Note:**

> I've been trying to finish this up for too long now so I decided to post it in two chapters. Thanks for taking a look and I hope you like it! I know it's kind of fast-paced and ideally I would have liked to slow it down a little, but alas, this is what I came up with.  
> This is going to be part of a series of works about different ships in this universe. I know the universe isn't really totally fleshed out in this one because it focuses more on their relationship, but it will grow eventually! Sorry I couldn't think of a cool dramatic name for the series Earth 22 is just what I've been calling it in my head haha
> 
> Glossary:  
> saikō-kanbu/saikō-komon: senior advisor  
> komon: advisor  
> oyassan/oyabun: "father", leader of a yakuza group  
> wakagashira: regional clan leader  
> Akaashi-gumi: The name of the yakuza empire  
> name-aniki: brother  
> name-neesan: sister  
> shabu: street name of methamphetamine  
> so-honbucho: headquarters chief  
> name-oji: uncle
> 
> Thank you for reading I appreciate you so much x

“There’s been reports that the Ikeda clan is skimming. Though given their recent behavior, I suspect it’s actually a rumor started by the Fukudas, and I highly doubt there’s any truth to it. I’ve given your secretary a summary of our findings for you to review if you wish.”

“I scheduled meetings with Ikeda-san and Fukuda-san on Thursday. I’ll have them plan to be at headquarters all day in case you would like to see them both at the same time.”

“Fine. Is that all?”

“Yes, oyassan.”

Atsumu giggled, tugging on his father’s pant leg under the table. 

“Tsumu! Don’t!” Keiji whispered, hiding his smile behind his hand.

Akaashi Noboru cleared his throat. “Alright, you’re all dismissed. Thank you for being here.”

As people filed out of the room, two pairs of legs remained within the children’s reach. Atsumu pounded his fists on the toe of Miya Mamoru’s leather loafer, giggling when strong hands suddenly lifted him off the ground and pulled him up onto his father’s lap.

“Atsumu! I missed you!” Mamoru joked, ruffling his dark hair. “I wonder where Osamu went...”

“I don’t know!” Atsumu said, his tiny voice failing to hide his mischief. 

“Hm, Atsumu-chan, I haven’t seen Keiji in awhile either. If he ran away, he’s going to be in trouble!” Noboru said, emphasizing the last part so two little boys under the table could hear. 

Suddenly, he ducked his head below the mahogany surface. “Who’s under there?” he bellowed.

Osamu and Keiji shrieked.

“Watch out for dad!” Noboru threatened, crawling towards the two kids with a goofy smile on his face. 

Osamu flung himself on top of Keiji, wrapping his arms and legs around him and closing his eyes tight. “Nooooo!” he cried, voice shaking in fear. He felt a gentle touch to his back and peeked one eye open, daring to turn his head. 

Noboru sat under the table near them, back hunched so the large man could fit in the cramped space. Keiji and Osamu crawled to him, each climbing onto one leg and beginning to sniffle.

“Oh my brave boys, what’s wrong?” he said, patting Osamu’s head, who now had tears running down his face. 

“Otōsan said Keiji was gonna be in trouble,” the boy sobbed, wiping at his ruddy cheeks with small hands. 

“Shh, he’s not in trouble. I was joking, Osamu-chan,” Noboru said, chuckling and drying Osamu’s eyes lightly with the cuff of his shirt. Keiji sniffled on his other knee, hiding his face in his dad’s chest. “Osamu, were you going to protect Keiji from being in trouble?”

“I’ll never let Keiji be in trouble!” Osamu proclaimed confidently, attempting to steel his puffy, red face, and balling his fists. 

“Oh? That’s funny, because I always seem to find the two of you up to something. Maybe we should keep you separate,” Noboru said, grinning and turning his head to give his son a peck on the top of his head affectionately. 

“Yeah! Then I can play with Keiji all by myself!” Atsumu called, poking his head below the table to chime in. 

“No!” Keiji shouted, pulling his face away from his father’s chest, eyes widening and filling with tears. “Papa, I don’t want Osamu to go away! Ever!” he cried, blinking up at his dad.

“Hmm… okay, then, Osamu, you’d better always keep Keiji out of trouble.”

“I will!”

“Good.” Noboru pulled both of them in for a tight hug. “Miya, your kids are corrupting my kid. They’re getting too big to sit in on meetings, I think. I’ll call Asami and ask her to pick them up soon,” he said, laughing and crawling back out from under the table. He stood up, brushing off his suit pants, before taking a seat again on the chair his jacket was draped over. Osamu and Keiji crawled out behind him, running out into the hallway. Atsumu jumped off of Mamoru’s lap and chased after them. 

Mamoru smiled gently, watching the young boys flee out the door, listening to their giggles and silly children’s chatter as they instantly forgot the tears shed just moments ago. “I agree. They’re growing too fast,” he said fondly. “They’ll be starting school soon anyways. I’ve found a teacher, by the way, if you still want to have Keiji educated with them.” He reached for the decanter in the middle of the table and poured another splash of whiskey in Noboru’s glass, then refilled his own. 

Noboru nodded and sipped on it appreciatively. “Yes, I think it’s best they stay together, to be honest. They’ll be great advisors to Keiji when they’re all older. Just as you have been to me.”

“Oyassan, that’s too much. It’s nothing, what I do.”

“Sure, sure,” Noboru said, waving his hand. He knew his humble saikō-kanbu, head of his personal security, would never accept praise, so he didn’t press on. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, scratching the prickly hairs. “What do you think of Osamu and Keiji? Keiji seems to have taken to him recently. Even more than Atsumu. I have to say, I wasn’t expecting it.”

Mamoru shrugged, twiddling his fingers under the table. “They are quite adorable. It’s too early to know if it’s anything more than that. But,” he hesitated, considering future implications, “if you’d like them to be… less attached, for Keiji’s sake, I will make sure that it happens. I don’t know if you’ve had any plans for his partnering already. It’s not my place to ask, I apologize, oyassan.”

Noboru frowned, unpleasant conversations coming to mind. “I’ve already had propositions from the bolder wakagashira. Even a saikō-komon. I won’t say who. It irritates me. If Keiji was an alpha, I’m sure they’d keep their mouths shut and wait until he was old enough to choose for himself. He’s my son, after all. When the time comes, he can have anyone he wants. He doesn’t need to be coddled.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then remembered Mamoru’s original question. “You don’t need to separate them. They’re happy, and that’s all I want for Keiji. For all three of them. It’s fine for now.”

Mamoru gave a curt nod, and brought his glass to his lips. He could hear Atsumu arguing with Osamu in the hall, and then a secretary snapping at them. They were young, and only time would tell if their friendship lasted into adulthood. Perhaps they’d drift apart, and be strangers one day. Keiji was destined to take his father’s place as the head of the Akaashi-gumi, whether or not he was an alpha. Noboru was adamant of that. 

His father would inevitably receive countless marriage proposals over the next few years, from subordinate clans eager for a spot at the highest position of leadership. Regardless of what Noboru said now, it was unlikely that Keiji would marry someone outside of the most elite families. The Miyas were far from the top prospect. Their clan was known for training its members in protective services, and those services were called upon by many other clans of the Akaashi-gumi. Mamoru himself had earned a senior officer position as the oyabun’s personal guard and security advisor, but the Miyas were a relatively new addition to the Akaashi-gumi– their association going back only to his father’s generation, while other clans had been at the Akaashis’ side for a century. One of the old guard clans, like Tamura, or one with vast resources, like Komori, would most likely have a son chosen as Keiji’s mate. 

It was pointless for him to worry about now, and not technically his concern. On the whole, it was grim to discuss a child’s future marriage, but an inevitable aspect of the yakuza and corporate elite culture. But as a father, and maybe a bit selfishly, he was secretly rooting for Osamu.

* * *

“Akaashi-aniki, it’s time to go. The car is outside.”

Keiji looked up from where he sat at his desk. Osamu was standing behind his chair, hands on the table on either side of him, caging him in as he leaned over to look at the computer. Keiji’s dark hair ruffled under his chin as he shifted, and Osamu looked up too. 

The assistant looked away quickly, down at her phone to check something. “Ah, it’s the 11th, do you need us to reschedule?” she suggested politely, knowing that this was not possible and that Keiji would decline anyways. 

“No, thank you, Suzumeda-neesan. I’m feeling fine. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Kaori smiled and bowed, then disappeared from the doorway of Keiji’s office. Osamu stepped back, pulling Keiji’s chair out as he stood up from his desk. He grabbed the black wool coat from the rack and held it out for Keiji to slide into, retrieving his gloves and scarf at the same time. Next, he held each leather glove out for Keiji’s hand to slip inside gently, and then wrapped the scarf around his neck, pulling it up to his chin. 

“Samu, this is nice, but a little unnecessary. I can get dressed on my own,” Keiji complained, though he basked in the personal attention. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I just felt like it. Don’t whine,” Osamu replied. He put on his own equally smart outerwear, though his coat was camel to go with his navy pinstripe suit as opposed to Keiji’s undertaker look. He beckoned to the door. “After you, Keiji.”

They sat together in the car on the way to their location. A large regional clan, the Satos, had recently made an agreement to join the Akaashi-gumi, and Keiji was scheduled to make a publicity visit to some of the businesses in the area they controlled as a sign of good faith. Two additional cars flanked them discreetly, filled with extra members of their security team. They’d remain mostly hidden for the duration of the trip, while Osamu walked with Keiji between their scheduled visits. Prominent yakuza magazines would be sending photographers and reporters to meet them there and document the event. Keiji was an extremely famous member of the Akaashi-gumi being the sole heir to the empire, and even Osamu himself was relatively well known as both his friend and the son of a saikō-kanbu. Some of the magazines had long speculated about his relationship with Keiji, which he always found amusing. Not that he read those.

Even though Keiji always insisted that he was fine, Osamu wished he would take time off during his heat. Keiji had never had strong heats in the first place, and a part of him worried that straining himself during them would only affect Keiji’s fertility. Beyond the occasional symptoms of mild illness, Keiji had never been bedridden, or even had to miss a meeting. His father had privately worried, too, about his son’s weak genetics, fearing that he’d be unable to reproduce. He had the family doctor see him, who reassured him that everything was in working order biologically. The doctor explained that every omega experienced heat differently, and Keiji could consider himself lucky that he was able to maintain almost full composure during them. 

Keiji had never expressed any thoughts about his heat to Osamu. If he was insecure about it, he didn’t show it, either. He seemed to view it as a sign of strength, further proving that he could be a competent leader despite his sex. Osamu surely wasn’t going to question that. 

They arrived at the first business, a host club, right on time, and Osamu got out on his side of the car. He walked around to open Keiji’s door, but the driver had already taken care of it. Keiji stepped out and faltered. Osamu’s arm shot out to steady him. A few reporters were already taking photos. 

Osamu gave Keiji a concerned look, but didn’t say anything, as anyone could overhear them at that point. Keiji looked at him and smiled, straightening up and adjusting his scarf. “I’m fine,” he mouthed, then looked up at the entrance of the club, where the owner was waiting for their arrival. Keiji beamed.

“Hello, Kudo-san. It’s nice to meet you!” he said. The grizzly looking man bowed and extended his hand. Keiji took it with his own gloved hand and shook it courteously. 

“It is a pleasure to have you here, oyabun.”

“Please, I don’t feel old enough to be called oyabun yet,” Keiji joked with him, ascending the steps to join him for a photo-op with Osamu close behind. Osamu stood to the side, scanning the crowd anxiously. 

“We’re pleased to have been invited here by the Sato clan and we look forward to the prosperity we will share with our new family members,” Keiji addressed to the reporters. He signaled for the door to be opened and the three of them entered, followed by a few members of Keiji’s security. Reporters were not allowed inside, but would meet them outside of their next destination. 

They toured the inside of the establishment, listening to the owner describe some of their problems with the police. Keiji assured him that under their umbrella, it would cease to be an issue. 

The owner introduced them to some of the top hosts at the club, and the small group sat at a table while a select crew of wait staff rushed to serve them drinks. 

Osamu motioned to the peripheral security for a few additional guards to be brought in, and made Keiji sit at the outside corner, so he could escape quickly if needed. It also had the secondary purpose of ensuring that Osamu sat between him and anyone else. As they conversed politely, one of the alpha hosts smiled lazily at Keiji.

“Oyabun, has anyone ever told you how good you smell?” he said, voice deep and inviting. He set his elbows on the table, leaning forward, inhaling almost imperceptibly, increasing the intensity of his own pheromones. “I was excited to meet you.”

Osamu frowned and his hand briefly brushed the side of Keiji’s thigh. He pulled it away quickly, balling it into a fist in his lap instead. “Please, sit back, sir, for Akaashi-san’s safety,” he said through gritted teeth. The host obliged, leaning back in his seat again. Keiji smiled. 

“Thank you, I’m flattered,” Keiji replied respectfully, but with a hint of sarcasm that only Osamu could recognize. “Kudo-san tells me you’re the top host here. Congratulations on your achievement.”

The man frowned, taking a drink of his champagne. “I’m actually the second most popular, but it’s close,” he admitted, laughing to dissipate any awkwardness. It didn’t work. Keiji stared at him pointedly, leaving his drink untouched. 

“Ah, my mistake. I’m sure if you work hard, you’ll become number one someday!” Keiji said exuberantly, flashing him a fake smile. He nodded towards Kudo, clicking his tongue and ignoring whatever the alpha replied with.

“Kudo-san, thank you for your hospitality. I assure you that you will have no further issues with the police as long as you remain loyal and dutiful to the Sato clan, and therefore the Akaashi-gumi.” He stood, buttoning his jacket, and Osamu followed, his shoulder brushing against Keiji’s. A member of their security detail brought forth their coats. Osamu took both of them and helped Keiji into his again while he stared down the club owner for a moment longer.

“Thank you for coming, oyabun, we are honored to have had you here today. Anything you require, it will be yours.” Kudo stood and bowed deeply, as did the rest of his employees. Keiji nodded curtly, and then turned to leave, not deigning to give him a response. Osamu followed closely behind him as always. 

They stepped outside to reporters shouting questions, but the event was for photo-ops only, and Keiji wasn’t prepared to say anything to them besides his vaguely positive statements about their new subsidiary clan. Security kept them at bay as they began to walk to their next destination, a bar nearby. 

“That guy was bothering me,” Keiji commented, laughing a little as they walked down the street side by side. Cameras flashed. Osamu knew they’d appear in the gossip-oriented magazines later that week. 

“I could tell. Those types of guys are always after you,” Osamu teased, shoving his free hand in his pocket. Oh yes, he’d seen many try and fail to woo Keiji in his lifetime of knowing him. Practically every unmated alpha their age looked at him like a piece of meat. Whether it was for the possibility of power or genuine attraction, Osamu didn’t know.

“Mm. Let’s hurry this up. I want to go home,” Keiji replied, his breath clouding in the cold January air as he sighed.

Osamu reached out and rubbed Keiji’s back. His scent revealed the onset of exhaustion and stress. Osamu worried that Keiji’s heat may be contributing to his fatigue, but he didn’t bring it up. “Sure, Keiji, me too.”

* * *

After returning to headquarters and connecting with his secretary, Keiji would have been free to go home, but his father had requested an audience with him last minute. It was a Friday and he didn’t want to stay any later than he had to, but he’d be hard pressed to find an excuse to say no to one’s own father or the oyabun, who unfortunately happened to be the same person in his case. 

“Otōsan?” Keiji said, popping his head into his father’s office, a floor up from his own. They held the top three floors of a high-rise in the Nishi-Shinjuku district, right next to the Keio Plaza Hotel. It was essentially the same as any other business in Shinjuku.

“Ah, Keiji, come in. Drink?” Noboru said, smiling and beckoning for him to sit down on the sleek leather couch as he stood to join his son in the sitting area.

“No, that’s okay. It’s the 11th,” Keiji replied, dutifully pouring his dad a dram of whiskey into a crystal glass, as he did customarily every time he found himself in his office. He was already exhausted, and didn’t like to drink during his heat– he had found in the past that it exacerbated his symptoms. 

“Right, okay,” Noboru said awkwardly, with a hint of hesitation in his voice that Keiji immediately picked up on. His father only spoke with hesitation when he was holding a menu. Noboru made his way to the armchair adjacent to the couch Keiji was on, and sunk into it slowly.

“Otōsan, what did you need to talk to me about? Is something wrong?” Keiji asked, studying the way his father moved closely for signs of frailness, brows knitting together in concern. Was his dad sick? Lung cancer? Were the cigarettes finally catching up to him? The probabilities of countless horrible diagnoses raced through his mind, each more gruesome than the last.

“I don’t have cancer,” Noboru said quickly, raising the offered glass to his mouth, assuming his son was fearing the worst, as he had the tendency to do. “But since you asked, I actually wanted to talk to you about… something else.” He scratched his head, glancing at his watch, then stared out at the city lights through the all-glass wall. It was dark outside, and his office was lit only by a dragon-patterned Tiffany lamp on his desk.

“Otōsan, you’re freaking me out. I haven’t seen you act like this since you gave me the talk.” Keiji frowned, leaning back into the couch and tapping his shoe against the floor anxiously. Yes, his dad had deemed it necessary to tell him about the birds and the bees when he was the ripe age of ten. Surely if his mom was still around at the time he would have known better, but this was a man on his own with a kid he suddenly had sole responsibility for. It almost made Keiji chuckle thinking about it, but the situation at hand was concerning him.

“Okay, fine, Keiji. I guess you’re going to make me say it.”

“What? _Make_ you say it? _You_ called me in here, for Christ’s sake!” Keiji said, throwing up his hands and finally letting out an exasperated laugh. “Seriously, whatever it is, it’s fine. You know that. C’mon, I wanna go home,” he teased.

“Alright Keiji,” Noboru said, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair (mostly pepper, he would say proudly). “When are you going to get married?”

Keiji blinked and raised an eyebrow. “Why? I’m only 23. I didn’t think there was any pressing reason to,” he responded, avoiding answering the question directly.

“Haven’t you liked any of the alphas you’ve met so far? There’s some very nice young men we’ve seen. What’s wrong with them?”

“There’s nothing wrong with them. I’m just not really looking for a partner right now. I don’t know. None of them… clicked, you know?” Keiji said, sighing and crossing his leg so his ankle rested on the opposite knee. He flicked a piece of dust off of the patent leather of his shoe.

“Keiji. I’m getting old,” Noboru said gravely. 

Keiji rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. You’re like 50. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Fine, maybe you’re right. But look, Keiji. 20 or 30 years from now, when you take over from me, I want you to have your own support system there for you. A husband. Sons who can advise you. It happened to me too early. Thank god I had your mother and my sister at my side. But I want you to have someone there for you like you’ve been there for me. My own blood,” Noboru said, staring out the window again with a nostalgic look in his eyes.

Keiji pressed his thumbs into his temples. “Okay, wow. Thinking about my nonexistent children being 30 years old is a little too abstract for me right now. I mean, otōsan, you don’t have to worry. I’m sure I’ll get married someday,” he said, laughing at his dad’s dramatic statement. His father was silent, and dropped his head into his hands. Keiji briefly panicked.

“Keiji…” Noboru said into the floor, then looked up and met his gaze directly. “I want to be a grandpa!” he finally exclaimed, slamming his fists onto his thighs.

Keiji burst out laughing. 

“Are you _serious?_ That’s why you brought this up? Because you want _grandkids?_ I can’t… otōsan, that’s so…” His father, Akaashi Noboru, oyabun of the Akaashi-gumi, the most powerful yakuza member in history, wanted him to get married so that he could be a grandfather. 

“Keiji! I’m serious! I’m so jealous of Miya, Atsumu’s kids are so precious, he’s always showing me pictures and bringing them into the office, I can’t stand it! I miss when all you boys were small. Now you’re all grown up… having kids of your own… it makes me emotional!”

“Otōsan.” Keiji said, reaching out and patting his shoulder, smiling. “I promise I’ll have kids. I just have to find someone first, okay? There’s plenty of time for that.” He leaned back, throwing his arm across the back of the sofa and thumbing his chin. His father still looked pensive. “Is that really all you wanted to say?”

Noboru took a generous swig from his glass. “No, that’s not all,” he admitted, his tone darkening and face falling into a flat, unreadable expression. He stood up and walked back to his desk, taking a seat in his leather backed chair and folding his hands on the table top. 

Keiji swung his legs so that he was facing the desk, but he remained across the room on the couch. “Alright. What is it?” he said calmly, mentally adjusting to shift into a business discussion. 

“I’m considering lifting the ban on dealing in shabu.”

“Oh? Why wasn’t I aware of this?” Keiji replied, taken aback slightly by the statement. The Akaashi-gumi had a 20 year history of strictly prohibiting its members from engaging in the methamphetamine business. 

“Well,” Noboru began, “This hasn’t been made public yet, but Kita-san has fallen ill. He won’t be around much longer.”

Keiji nodded. The senior Kita had started their family business. They were the country’s shabu hub– 70% of all amphetamine trade originated in their warehouses. They kept their business so tight that the government had failed to find an excuse to intervene for years. The overhead involved with maintaining such a discrete operation gave them the power to charge premiums for their stock to any yakuza groups who wanted to distribute it. When they officially took majority control of the import market, Noboru had decided that the business was no longer profitable enough to continue managing, and banned the Akaashi-gumi from participating in the shabu trade altogether.

“So? I suppose Kita Shinsuke will be taking over, then?”

“That’s correct.”

“I don’t see how that changes anything. He’s just as fastidious as his father.”

“You’re right, their prices will remain the same. However,” Noboru said, clearing his throat, “it is likely that when he takes control of the board, he will appoint his cousin as CFO.”

Keiji nodded, tapping on his lip as he considered the new information. “Bokuto Kōtarō?”

“Yes.”

Keiji sighed. “I can only assume what this has to do with me, so why don’t you just enlighten me,” he replied with slight irritation. 

“He has personally come to me with a marriage proposition.”

“And you want me to accept?”

“No. You know that I won’t ask that of you. I want you to consider it.” Noboru said firmly, then relaxed his shoulders a little and looked at his son fondly. “It could be… lucrative for the family. For _your_ family. And he is a good man.”

Keiji sat silent for a moment. He had never seriously considered any of the alphas who had offered themselves to him before, but given his father’s thoughts on the matter, perhaps it was time for that to change.

Not only that, but he himself had recently started to yearn for more out of life. Maybe it was just his body talking, but he’d visited Atsumu and seen the way he cared for his family, listened to the way he talked about his kids like they were the moon and stars, and it made Keiji feel something. He wanted that for himself, to find someone who would not only give him a family, but protect them and cherish them. 

“I’ll get his contact information from your assistant.” Keiji stood up and buttoned his jacket, shoving his hands in his pockets after. “I’m going now.”

“Keiji,” Noboru said, voice hesitating again as his son turned back to him, “get home safely,” he settled on saying. 

Keiji nodded and bowed, before stepping back outside to the hallway. It was late, almost dinner time. He breezed down the hall, passing the lounge area where Osamu was waiting with his coat. Osamu jumped up when he saw Keiji and hurried to his side, wrapping the coat around his shoulders as he stalked towards the elevator. Employees scrambled out of his path.

“What did he want?” Osamu said, concerned by Keiji’s contemplative face.

Keiji relaxed as he felt the coat slip around him. He sighed. “Nothing important, just family stuff, I guess,” he replied, stepping into the elevator with Osamu behind him. “Let’s just order food tonight. Can you stay over?”

“Oh, sure,” Osamu said, reaching out to block the elevator door with one hand as Keiji entered. He pressed the button for the garage level, then leaned against the back wall, studying Keiji’s face for any signs of distress. Keiji simply sidled up to him and leaned his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes as they descended. Osamu sniffed discreetly. His scent didn’t give away much, besides the usual stress signals after a long day at work. Perhaps they were stronger than usual, but nothing out of the ordinary for their field of work. If Keiji said nothing was wrong, he wouldn’t press him about it. He exhaled and wrapped his arm around Keiji’s shoulder, squeezing him reassuringly. If anything had happened, he was sure Keiji would tell him when he was ready to.

* * *

That weekend, Keiji was suspiciously quiet. Even through Osamu’s attempts to comfort him with homemade okonomiyaki, onigiri, and watching his favorite films, he wouldn’t tell him what or if anything was bothering him.

They didn’t live together, but Osamu ended up at Keiji’s apartment more nights than not. He was Keiji’s closest confidant and therefore worked with him frequently to advise him on a number of business decisions that he was responsible for. Additionally, he had trained extensively during his youth in close protection as was family tradition, so he managed Keiji’s security team. For now, Keiji primarily worked with other komon to guide the direction of the syndicate and served as one of the faces of the group, often attending charity galas and other publicity events.

And, sure, when Osamu stayed over, they slept in the same bed. 

Maybe they cuddled sometimes.

After Keiji’s mother died, he had moved in with the Miyas, since they had the same private tutors anyways and he’d otherwise be left alone with house staff while his father worked long hours. While they all had separate rooms in the lavish Miya family home, every night either Osamu or Keiji would come creeping into the other’s room, sneaking into bed so they could fall asleep in close proximity. Though they’d attempted to break the habit in their teens, that had only lasted a few days before they gave up, reasoning that it wasn’t hurting anyone to continue. 

Keiji moved into his own penthouse a few years ago, so they did spend the night apart semi regularly. But never two nights in a row. Either Osamu made an excuse to come over or Keiji made an excuse to invite him over. The routine had gone unacknowledged too long to start addressing it directly now. 

On Sunday night, Osamu tucked his chin over Keiji’s shoulder in bed as they watched the news in front of them. He sat against the headboard in a white t-shirt, while Keiji leaned against him bare. He wrapped his arms around him, resting his linked hands on his stomach.

“Hey,” Keiji suddenly said, keeping his eyes glued to the screen. Osamu glanced down at his face, seeing the reflection of the TV dance on his glasses, but otherwise a blank expression. 

Keiji had for some reason been avoiding discussing the conversation he had with his father with Osamu. It’s not like it affected Osamu. Maybe he didn’t even need to tell him about it. But it felt like there was something foreboding hanging over their friendship, and this was a point that they would have inevitably had to come to some day.

“Hey what?” Osamu replied, wrapping a hand around Keiji’s side and squeezing. He loosened his arms as Keiji shifted on his chest to crane his head up and look at him. 

“I have to tell you something. And I want you to react honestly.”

“What? When have I ever lied to you? What is it?” Osamu said, chuckling at Keiji’s unusual behavior but with a hint of concern. He guessed that this wasn’t going to be a business related discussion. 

“I’m going to start dating someone.”

Keiji searched Osamu’s face for any signs of what he was thinking. His arms let go of Keiji, and he shifted out from behind him, turning to face him.

“Who?” Osamu asked, raising an eyebrow with curiosity, but remaining composed. Keiji wasn’t sure what reaction he was expecting.

“Bokuto Kōtarō. He asked to marry me. I told my father I would consider it.”

Now, both of Osamu’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “That’s what oyassan wanted to talk to you about? Marriage, huh. Moving a little fast, don’t you think?”

“So? What do you think?” Keiji probed, sliding down into the bed and propping his head up with one arm. 

“What do _I_ think? It doesn’t really have anything to do with me. I hope he’s nice,” Osamu replied, shrugging and studying Keiji equally closely, wondering where all of this was coming from. Dating someone? Marriage? It certainly wasn't what he had expected Keiji to say, but it also wasn’t that out of the blue. He knew that someday Keiji would get married, and he would too. They were both of marriageable age and extremely eligible bachelors in the eyes of the yakuza elite. 

“Yeah, it doesn’t, I guess. And he _is_ nice,” Keiji replied, unable to reign in his slight annoyance. Though, again, he didn’t know what he had thought Osamu would say.

“How do you know he’s nice if you’ve never met him?” Osamu grumbled, flicking off the TV and also sliding down into bed, crossing his arms behind his head against the pillow. His leg brushed Keiji’s and he jerked it away like he’d been burned. He rolled over towards the wall. 

“Because I know.” Keiji huffed, pulling the duvet over himself tight.

“Okay, fine, whatever,” Osamu muttered.

“Yeah. Fine.”

If Osamu didn’t care, that was fine. What did Keiji expect him to say? ‘No, I don’t want you to?’ Now, that seemed so unrealistic it almost made him laugh. He didn’t want Osamu to care.

And if Keiji wanted to date someone else, that was fine. What did Osamu expect? For him to stay single forever? Or… he didn’t know what else. Even if he did care (he definitely didn’t), it’s not like he could tell Keiji not to.

So they went to sleep without each others’ comforting embrace, without goodnights, and without resolution.

* * *

The next day at the office, Osamu tiptoed around Keiji. They still had to work together, but he wasn’t sure how to act around him today. They were still friends, right? Nothing was different… technically. He wondered what would happen tonight after work. Would he go to Keiji’s apartment like usual? Stay over? He would still, if Keiji asked him to. 

He blinked to attention for a moment as he heard the so-honbucho call the meeting they were in to a close. He filed out of the conference room robotically, staring at the alternating movements of the leather toes of his shoes as he headed down the hall to his office lost in thought. The elevator dinged and something changed in the air. 

Osamu looked up as the doors slid open to reveal a man that demanded attention. His eccentric gray and black streaked hair was coiffed into a sleek comb over. Bright golden eyes surveyed the office, hands in the pockets of his suit jacket, which hung open, revealing bare skin covered in ornate art up to his collarbones. 

Osamu squinted. Perhaps the man intended to convey that he had nothing to hide, but Osamu thought the display of tattoos in this way was flagrant and irresponsible. The air filled with a strong tobacco and bourbon scent– it had an intoxicating, sweet, almost meaty quality like there was an open bottle under everyone’s nose. Was he doing that on purpose? Or was his scent just that strong?

“Akaashi-san!” his voice boomed, and he extended his arms out as he stepped into the hall, two women with blank, hardened expressions flanking him. 

Keiji had also been halfway back to his office after the meeting when he’d stopped upon seeing the man’s arrival to their floor. He gave him a polite smile and daintily tucked back strands of his hair that were falling into his eyes. “Bokuto-san, I’m happy to see you. I just need to put these back in my office, please wait here; I’ll be right back,” he said, bowing his head slightly.

Was he acting _bashful_? Osamu frowned.

“Of course; I’ll be here,” Bokuto said with a charming grin, checking his watch and then leaning against the wall. His jacket fell open more. Suzumeda looked like she needed to lie down. 

Keiji turned down the side hall and Osamu stalked after him. He followed him inside his office without invitation and watched Keiji settle the stack of papers he was carrying on his desk, while Osamu stood with his arms crossed in the doorway. 

“This is what your 12 o’clock meeting is?” he said, more accusingly than he had intended.

Keiji looked up at him slowly, calmly, with his serious expression on, not the face he gave Osamu when they were making dinner at home. Or when they said goodnight. Or when they shared a moment of reprieve in the elevator.

“I told you I was going to start dating him, Osamu.” He took off his glasses and left them on the desk, removing his jacket and throwing it over the back of his chair. A thin white turtleneck clung to his svelte figure, tucked into slim gray trousers secured with a designer belt. Ghosts of the tattoos that covered his chest and upper arms were faintly visible through the material. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you meant, like, within the next 24 hours. Tch.” Osamu looked down, feigning interest in the carpet. Keiji walked around his desk and stopped before where Osamu blocked his exit, slipping his hands into his pockets and giving him a pointed stare. 

“Well, it’s happening now. How do I look?” he asked innocently, but there was a bite to the question that made Osamu angry. 

Osamu looked up and stared back at Keiji. His eyes were simply cold and metallic. There was nothing particularly special about the way he was looking at him. 

“You look good,” he replied, before tearing his gaze away and stepping to the side. 

“Thanks, Samu,” Keiji said, then walked out the door, right past Osamu, and down the hall. And then Osamu was standing in the doorway of Keiji’s office by himself. 

* * *

Osamu thought he could never hate another person’s scent so much.

The rest of that week, Bokuto would come into the office to meet Keiji for lunch, or whisk him away at the end of the workday for dinner. It seemed like the both of them were trying to pack as much of a relationship as they could into as short a time as possible. Osamu didn’t know why there was a need to rush. 

He had come to realize that Bokuto’s pheromones really were just that powerful, because without fail, every time he was around Osamu was unable to escape what he now considered the most sickening scent he’d ever had the displeasure of enduring. He’d even complained about it to Suzumeda, who told him he should get his nose checked out. 

Other than that, his mental state had disintegrated. At least, it felt like that, but he didn’t know anymore. He was barely sleeping, and it was affecting him at work too– he felt lethargic, stressed out, unable to focus, and _bad_.

For the first time in a long time, he was faced with a weekend alone in his own apartment. It barely got any use, so it was sparsely furnished, but the kitchen was functional and he had a big bed, so that was enough for the rare nights he typically spent there. Once he’d found out Osamu was going to be free for the weekend, Atsumu had called him and insisted on visiting with his kids. Osamu didn’t feel like putting up a fight, and he was lonely, anyways, so he said yes. 

So, Friday night, the three of them had come knocking at his door and settled into the guest bedrooms. Last time he had them over, Hoshi and Mitsuki were too young to get around on their own, but now that they were 2 and 3, Samu-oji’s apartment was a new playground to explore. He was thankful that they were occupied jumping on the couch so he could focus on making dinner. Atsumu watched them out of the corner of his eye while he sat at the counter, drinking a cup of tea and chatting with Osamu while he cooked. 

“So how are things with Keiji?” Atsumu asked shamelessly, clued into potential strife between the two by the fact that Osamu was free this weekend in the first place. 

Osamu sighed as he chopped up a few carrots. “Well,” he started, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand, “they’re not great.” He added them to the pot where beef, potatoes, onions, and garlic were already sizzling. “I guess nothing happened, but he started dating someone. This guy called Bokuto Kōtarō. He’s Kita Shinsuke’s cousin, or something,” he explained, as if he didn’t know exactly who Bokuto was by now. 

“I see. So you’re jealous,” Atsumu said, eyes glinting as he looked over his mug at the way his brother scowled. 

“What? No. Why would I be jealous? I don’t–”

“Mitsu! Watch the head!” Atsumu barked over his shoulder, interrupting Osamu as his daughter flipped a somersault over Hoshi on the couch. He looked back at Osamu. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Osamu sighed and turned around to pour boiling water from the kettle into the pot, and then switched the burner up to high. “I said I’m not jealous. I don’t know. Things are just weird. I haven’t been hanging out with him for the last week.”

“You haven’t been sleeping together, then. You look like you haven’t been sleeping at all, honestly,” Atsumu pointed out, noting the bags under Osamu’s eyes and his overall pallor. 

Osamu rolled his eyes and leaned over the counter while he waited for the water to boil again, picking up his own mug and taking a drink. “I told you, it’s weird when you say it like that. And no, I haven’t been. I tried melatonin last night and it did jack shit.”

“That’s because you need Keijitonin, Samu.”

Osamu reached across the counter to flick Atsumu on the forehead. Atsumu dodged it, laughing and holding his hands up to protect himself. “I’ll give you Benadryl tonight. I give it to the kids when they’re being fussy. Like you are.”

“I’ll try the Benadryl, thanks,” Osamu said through gritted teeth, turning around to stir the pot and cover it with a lid, and then reducing the heat to let it simmer.

“Speaking of sleeping together, how is it? I always wondered if he was a freak, you know?”

Osamu nearly burned himself on the side of the pot. He whipped around and glared at his brother, who rested his chin in his hand with an innocent look on his face. “Why would you ask me something like that, you f– you creep?” he said, eyeing his niece and nephew as he chose to use different language. 

“Huh? I dunno, just curious I guess. You know I had a crush on him when we were kids. He’s hot. Real mysterious vibes. I love when I can’t tell what they’re thinking at all,” Atsumu said, sighing and looking off into the distance with a dopey smile. 

“I guess you’ll never know,” Osamu snapped back, wiping his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder and picking up his tea.

Atsumu’s expression turned nightmarishly impish in a split second. He raised an eyebrow. “You’re not even doing him, are you?” he questioned suggestively, also minding his choice of words for the children’s sake.

Osamu felt his face get hot. “No,” he grumbled, leaning over the counter again and distracting himself with his drink.

“You’re kidding. After all this time you guys never…” Atsumu gestured vaguely with his hands, looking at Osamu somewhat incredulously. 

“It just never came up! I don’t know!” Osamu said, exasperated, running a hand through his hair and then leaning his forehead into the flat of his palm.

“How do you even stop yourself? Man, if he was right there every night, I don’t know if I could–”

“I just exercise a little self control because I _respect him_ , Tsumu,” Osamu hissed. Atsumu’s mouth curled into a rascally grin again and Osamu groaned in advance protest of whatever he was about to say.

“So you’ve thought about it,” Atsumu teased, straightening up on the barstool and crossing his arms in satisfaction.

“No, I don’t know, I don’t… think so?” Osamu sputtered to defend himself, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Papa, play?” A little chubby hand tugged on the hem of Atsumu’s shirt. He looked down at Hoshi with a big smile and scooped him up onto his lap, ruffling his hair. 

“Of course! What are we playing? Let’s leave Samu-oji alone so he can finish making dinner and think about his choices in life.” Atsumu smirked at his brother before standing up and giving Hoshi a playful toss up into the air.

Hoshi giggled. “Okay!” 

Osamu sighed, smiling at his nephew fondly but feeling inclined to strangle Atsumu. He settled for wringing the kitchen towel in his hands and pursing his lips. 

While they played in the living room, Osamu started to clean up the kitchen and watched them thoughtfully. Atsumu was a great father. And Osamu began to picture himself on the floor in the living room, with a pair of black haired, steel blue eyed kids on his back, giggling while their mother watched them.

_Huh. That would mean that me and Keiji…_

Osamu’s thoughts drifted to a different kind of mental image. One where Keiji was making a face he’d never seen him make in real life. His hands laced behind Osamu’s neck, his long legs wrapped around his waist. Something hot and wet…

He shook his head, blinking hard over the simmering pot he was stirring curry cubes into. Whether or not he thought those kinds of things, Keiji was dating someone now. And they were friends. He wouldn’t ruin a lifetime of intimate friendship over a horny thought. 

After having dinner together around the kotatsu and watching Kiki’s Delivery Service to get the kids sleepy, the Miya brothers each gently picked up one toddler and carried them against their chests into the spare room where two small futons were rolled out. Osamu tucked Mitsuki in and patted her dark hair, smiling at the way she reached for him half-asleep as he stood up. Atsumu cooed goodnight to Hoshi next to him, and Osamu went back into the living room to let his brother put them to bed privately. He flopped onto the couch and checked his phone for emails. A few from work had come in, but they could be dealt with tomorrow. 

Atsumu shut the door quietly and walked back into the kitchen. “I’m having a beer,” he said, pulling one out of Osamu’s fridge.

“Fine. Get me one,” Osamu called, not having the energy to argue with his brother about asking before taking.

Atsumu brought them into the living room and tossed one to Osamu before joining him on the couch. 

“Atsumu,” Osamu said, clearing his throat as he cracked open the can, “I’m glad you’re here, but you know I have to ask… is everything okay?”

Atsumu sipped and then smiled at him. Osamu knew it was fake. “It’s better. Things have been good for a few months. I just… wanna get out, sometimes.”

Osamu didn’t really like that answer, but he did trust his brother. “Alright, if you say so. You know, even if I’m not here, you can always come over here with the kids. And,” he said, hesitating, “you can… I’ll always… well, you know I’m on your team,” he finished, somewhat awkwardly. He didn’t want to push him, or be too sappy– that wasn’t how they communicated, but he hoped that Atsumu knew what he meant. Always. 

Atsumu downed more of his drink. He clapped Osamu on the shoulder. “Of course! C’mon, Samu, this is killing the mood. Let’s just drink.”

Osamu nodded and drank, letting his brother start blabbing about his job and how his trip to Osaka last week had been a drag. For tonight, this was enough for both of them. 

* * *

After saying goodbye to Atsumu, Hoshi, and Mitsuki on Sunday afternoon, Osamu was faced with yet another week of his new reality where Akaashi Keiji was dating Bokuto Kōtarō. He’d been able to sleep better that weekend thanks to the powers of Benadryl, so he came into headquarters more refreshed than he had been as of late. He grabbed a mug of coffee from the break room on the way to his office, setting it down next to a pile of magazines that had been left there. He popped his head out of the door, looking at where Suzumeda was typing away on her computer. 

“Hey, what are these for?” he asked, jerking his head towards his desk.

“I just thought you would want to see them,” she replied, pursing her lips and then returning to her work.

Osamu frowned and sat down, picking up the first magazine. The cover made him short-circuit.

AKAASHI KEIJI AND BOKUTO KŌTARŌ: LOVE IS IN THE AIR!

The photo: a high quality shot of Keiji and Bokuto, the larger man’s arms wrapped around him. Keiji, his nose and cheeks red from the winter air, tilting his face up, and kissing him. 

He wasn’t interested in flipping to page 23 for the inside scoop. The cover was plenty for him to sit with. His hand clenched, slightly crushing the spine and pages. He shot up from his desk and out into the hall, mind racing too fast to stop and think about where he was going or what he was doing. He pushed open the door to Keiji’s office, magazine in hand, and waved it in the air at him.

Keiji was listening in on a conference call. He eyed the magazine and sighed. “Excuse me, something just came up, I have to get off the call. I’ll be back in ten minutes. I apologize.” He hung up. 

“So? What is this?” Osamu asked as soon as the room was silent. He felt his voice crack slightly.

“What do you mean, ‘what is it’? It’s just a magazine. I’m not sure what you came in here for.” Keiji stared at him with that same dead look in his eyes that he’d given him for the last week. Osamu wanted to shake him, anything to get him to talk to him like he was actually there.

“Why are you acting like this? Did you think… did you think I wouldn’t see this?” Osamu spat, letting his hand drop to his side. The magazine hit his leg.

“On the contrary. I wasn’t thinking about you at all when that photo was taken,” Keiji said coldly, not moving from his desk, and crossing his arms as he leaned back slightly in his seat. He smelled like Bokuto. Osamu wrinkled his nose in disgust, but he could tell underneath that scent that Keiji was anxious, despite his aloof facade.

“Jesus. You’re a delight today,” he scoffed, glaring at Keiji’s blank face.

Keiji was fed up. Osamu thought he saw flames in his eyes. “Why do you even care? You said you didn’t care!” he snapped, hands falling to the desk and gripping the edge in frustration.

“Maybe I care! This shit… it’s all moving too fast, and I don’t… I don’t want you to get hurt!” Osamu snarled back. He immediately regretted it, because all he wanted to do was hold Keiji again, keeping him safe from the world. He wasn’t mad at him at all.

Keiji’s face twisted, his anger coming to a head. Osamu thought, horribly, that it was at least better than Keiji’s previously empty gaze. “You don’t GET to care! And I can make my own choices, Osamu! I don’t need you to tell me what to do!”

Osamu sighed and looked at Keiji sadly. He sat at his desk, knuckles white on the edge, with an expression that Osamu had never seen before, but not the one he would have liked to see the most. He’d hadn’t seen him this upset in a long time, and it killed him that it was his fault.

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do, I just…” he trailed off, running a hand through his hair and looking away. “I’m gonna go before I say something I’ll regret,” he finished softly, looking at Keiji one last time before turning around and walking slowly down the hall back to his office. 

He slumped into his chair, focused on one thing: getting out of there. Unfortunately, he was a responsible adult, so he couldn’t just leave work on a whim. He pulled out his phone and dialed Atsumu’s contact.

“Hey.”

“You’re in Nagoya this week, right?”

“Mm. So is it still fine if I come out?”

“Okay. I’m gonna talk to dad about it, I’ll let you know.”

Next, he opened his email and drafted one to Suzumeda: _Please request a meeting with my father before the end of the day. You can move around anything else on my schedule to make it work. Thanks._

* * *

Just after lunch, Osamu sat directly across from Miya Mamoru in his office. His dad’s worn but kind eyes studied him carefully. His office was on the floor above Osamu’s, so he hadn’t seen him recently, but he had heard from Noboru about Keiji’s new relationship, and could only imagine what Osamu was thinking. 

“I want to work with Atsumu for awhile. He’s at the Nagoya headquarters this week. He said he could use my help. I can still work on my responsibilities here remotely, but I’ll probably need someone to step up to fill in for my in person duties,” Osamu said, crossing his legs and resting his arm on the chair back next to him. 

Mamoru frowned slightly. “If that’s what you want, that can be arranged– Ojiro can fill in here. No problem.”

“Great. I’ll let Suzumeda-neesan know and she’ll adjust my schedule. Thank you.” Osamu bowed his head and stood up to leave. 

“Wait, Osamu.” Mamoru folded his hands beneath his chin and looked at his son with concern. “Is this about Keiji?”

Osamu sighed and sat back down, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands. “Yeah, obviously,” he scoffed. 

“Did he not talk to you before starting to see Bokuto-san?”

“No, he talked to me. I said I didn’t care. But I think I might care. I don’t know, otōsan. Help me out,” Osamu said, smiling weakly and tilting his head to look up at his father.

His dad smiled back. “Osamu. I think you’ve been… how can I put this? Look, you’ve known each other for so long that I think you started taking each other for granted. And without him in your life, you’re not... happy. I don’t know what Keiji’s feeling, but I have an inkling that it might not be that far off.”

Osamu rolled his eyes. “I don’t think so. He barely talks to me now. And he’s been.. Ugh… He looks like he’s happy with Bokuto-san. I don’t want to interfere. Like, it’s selfish to bother him, at this point.”

Mamoru clicked his tongue. “Osamu. Is it selfish to express your feelings?”

Osamu groaned and stood up again. “This is getting too deep for me. But thanks, otōsan. I think Atsumu’s gonna stay at my place next weekend again, so you should come over for dinner. I’ll text you, alright?”

“Oh, with Hoshi and Mitsu?” Mamoru said excitedly, perking up.

Osamu smiled. “Yeah, with the kids. See you then.”

Mamoru watched him walk out of his office. He felt bad for him, for the moment, but he was getting old and jaded. He’d seen Osamu and Keiji together for 23 years. Whether his son was ready to admit it or not, there was no one he loved more in the world. And he knew that Keiji loved him too. These types of things tended to work themselves out. He knew this would too, in due time. 

* * *

So, that evening, Osamu took the two hour Shinkansen ride to Nagoya, and met Atsumu in the hotel he was staying at. Atsumu’s job involved travelling to different regional headquarters as needed, overseeing any ground operations that required special security measures, such as meetings with executives from important companies or shipments of a large quantity of weapons.

The week went by in a blur. He was going through the motions while trying to ignore the office gossip about Keiji. Eventually, he stopped thinking about it, but didn’t start thinking about anything else– his mind just remained empty, for the most part. That Friday back in Tokyo, he tried to drink away his problems at Suna Rintarou’s birthday celebration, but he ended up slipping away quietly an hour in after Keiji and Bokuto themselves showed up to the club. It was more enjoyable, anyways, to send the babysitter home early and take care of his niece and nephew himself while Atsumu stayed out partying with their other childhood friends. His brother deserved a night like that. 

The next week was Kobe, the week after that was Fukuoka. By the end of his third week away from the office, it had creeped into February, and he was starting to feel like himself again. Well, he was starting to figure out what kind of person he was without Keiji. 

A quiet, laid back guy, who mostly kept to himself, occasionally arguing with his brother, spending his nights watching random American movies, trying new recipes. A good uncle. A more frequent gym-goer (staying in shape was part of his job, but three weeks of Atsumu’s intense exercise and diet plan had him feeling pretty confident). A Sunday-crossword solver. He thought Keiji would be able to figure out more of the clues than him. 

That very Sunday, he was settling into bed just out of the shower, ready to go to Nagoya again with Atsumu the next morning. For the first time in a month, he fell asleep quickly and soundly with no Benadryl, no melatonin, and definitely no Keiji.

* * *

Osamu rubbed his eyes, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. Ah, yes, it was ringing; that’s why he had woken up. Shit, it was the _oyabun?_ He let it go for a few more seconds while he sat up and adjusted himself. What time was it? 2:25? Fuck, someone had better be dead, or he was going to be pissed.

“Hello, oyassan, what happened?” he said, answering the call and praying it wasn’t something he needed to get out of bed for. Given that the call was in the middle of the night, he doubted it.

“ _Osamu. I need you to go to Keiji’s, now,”_ came the voice of Noboru on the other end.

Osamu groaned silently and looked up at the ceiling, cursing his luck. Unfortunately, this was not a man he could talk back to. “Okay, I will. What’s happening, though?”

“ _All I know is that he’s inconsolable. I’m sending a specialist there in the morning, but I don’t know if it can wait that long. Please, Osamu, I know you haven’t been speaking, but I’m trusting you with this.”_

He sounded tired and strung out. Osamu’s stomach dropped. He knew something serious was going on. The only other time Noboru had called him directly like this was once when he asked for his potato salad recipe. 

“Alright. I’ll leave now. Don’t worry about this, I’ll text you with what the situation is when I get there, if you’d like.”

“ _Thank you, Osamu. Please let me know.”_

“Yes, oyassan. Talk to you then.” He hung up and sat there in bed for a moment, leaning his head back against the headboard and sighing. 

There was nothing for him to do besides get out of bed, throw on some clothes, and text a driver to come get him. 

He wasn’t looking forward to seeing Keiji again. Frankly, he didn’t want to hear about how great his relationship with Bokuto was, or what else they’d been doing off camera. He’d been avoiding reading any magazines for the last two weeks; for all he knew they could be engaged by now. But, Akaashi Noboru had personally ordered him to go, so he had no choice in the matter. 

Thirty minutes later, he pushed open the door to Keiji’s apartment. He could immediately smell Bokuto’s scent, as usual, but even more overpowering was Keiji’s. Fuck. He was scared and in pain, his scent broadcasting it to anyone who would respond. 

Osamu threw his coat off and rushed into the bedroom. “Keiji? What’s happening?” he called as he opened the door, adrenaline induced by the pheromones in the air coursing through him.

The lamp on the nightstand provided the room with warm, dim lighting. On the bed, Bokuto was huddled around Keiji, holding him and rubbing his arms in an attempt to soothe his cries. Keiji looked like he was dying; his face was pale, and he laid there, shuddering and whimpering every few seconds, knees up to his chest and arms tucked in next to them. His bloodshot eyes snapped open at Osamu’s voice and his lips parted weakly.

“What the fuck? Keiji, are you okay?” Osamu stepped towards the bed but halted halfway across the room, conflicted on approaching nearer when Bokuto was still there. 

“He’s supposed to be in heat, but I don’t know, he just won’t stop crying, and my… my scent isn’t doing anything, he told me to call his dad…” Bokuto replied to him, raising a hand to his hair in exasperation. His eyes were panicked too, and he looked exhausted and distraught.

Unfortunately, Osamu didn’t care about Bokuto’s feelings right now. He was seeing red at the thought and sight of them sleeping together, with Bokuto’s hand way too close to Keiji’s bare chest. In Keiji’s bed. Where Osamu was supposed to be. Not Bokuto.

“Keiji, why the fuck is he in your bed?” Osamu snapped, fists curling, his own pheromones going into overdrive automatically to compete with Bokuto and respond to an omega’s distress. 

Keiji groaned and his eyes shut again, inhaling lightly, but his breathing was feeble. “Osamu… please…” he managed to mumble, his voice scratchy and raw from what could have been hours of crying out. “Come… closer…”

Bokuto’s arms stopped moving, and he looked confused.

“Bokuto-san, I’m sorry, but get the fuck away from him,” Osamu growled. He didn’t want any of this. His blood was boiling and he felt like at any second he might leap across the room and rip his throat out with his hands alone. But he didn’t know if he would come out on top if he got into a fight with Bokuto. And it would only hurt Keiji more if it came to that. 

“What’s your fucking problem? I’m not leaving him, he’s in pain. I don’t know why his dad told you to come here, but you’re pissing me off,” Bokuto spat, his voice rising in volume and his arms clenching around Keiji again. That drove Osamu even crazier.

“You need to leave, right now, or I’m going to remove you myself, you–”

“Osamu!” Keiji cried weakly, but it was the strongest voice he could manage. “Please, shut the fuck up, both of you, Osamu, just come here now, _please_.” His voice was so needy and desperate that they actually did shut up. Osamu finally rushed to the bed, sitting on the edge gently.

Keiji immediately threw his arms over Osamu’s lap and tried to pull him in closer. On the other side, Bokuto stood up, breathing hard and heavy with rage. He grabbed a fistful of his own hair, looking disoriented. 

“Akaashi, I don’t know what’s going on, I…” He stuttered slightly, and swallowed. “I don’t know what to think right now, I just don’t know anymore, I need to go… I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.”

“Bokuto, please,” Keiji sobbed into Osamu’s lap, watching as the other man walked out of the room. “I’m sorry.” His voice reduced to a whisper. He didn’t have anything left in him. Tears ran down his face, staining Osamu’s pants. 

Osamu held him loosely, and relaxed slightly when he heard the front door slam shut, but he was still vibrating with anger while Keiji shook next to him. He was halfway off the bed, and his feet remained planted on the floor as he twisted awkwardly to Keiji. “How could you let him sleep here with you?” His voice wavered, and he felt his throat tighten. “It hurts, Keiji, it hurts, and I don’t even know how to tell you.” He felt a tear roll down his cheek as his mind ran away from him and pictured a million things he didn’t want to see.

Keiji clutched Osamu’s legs tighter. “I couldn’t sleep alone, I didn’t know what to do,” he mumbled through shaky breaths, sniffling and curling into the fetal position. “I didn’t feel safe,” he cried, trying to bury his face into Osamu’s thighs and hide from the world. The blankets were pushed down to the bottom of the bed, leaving him feeling exposed and bare on the mattress.

“Well, you shouldn’t have brought him here,” Osamu said, his voice also breaking into a sob as he slid onto the bed all the way, finally wrapping himself around Keiji and pulling him into his chest, unable to resist comforting him. He held Keiji’s head against him like he’d never let go. He wouldn’t. His tears rolled off his cheek into Keiji’s hair. “I wish you would have just told me to come again, I would have come in a heartbeat, Keiji. I wish he wasn’t here with you.” He stroked his hair, and kept squeezing him with the arm around his lower back. He wanted Keiji to melt into him. He wanted to never be separated again. “I hated it so much, Keiji, because… I…” 

His voice quieted; he was at a loss for words. But he wasn’t. “I love you.”

“What?” Keiji croaked softly into his chest. He tried to look up at him, but Osamu thought we would fall apart if he looked into Keiji’s eyes right now, so he held his head firmly in place.

“I don’t know, but I do, all I know is that I do, and I can’t stand seeing you guys together, it kills me. That’s why I left. I didn’t want to see him come into the office for you, and smell him, and smell him _on_ _you_ , I felt like I was dying, like I couldn’t breathe.”

“I don’t– Samu, I can’t think right now…”

“Shh, Keiji, it’s okay, just breathe. You’re okay,” Osamu said gently, taking deep breaths himself. He traced his hand over the wings on his upper back, smoothed over the dragon curving along his spine. He didn’t need to look; they were patterns on Keiji’s skin that he knew by heart. He’d been there every time new lines were drawn throughout the years, laying in the chair next to him, receiving his own. 

He didn’t say anything else for a while. He listened to Keiji’s crying cease, his breaths slow to match Osamu’s, and felt his body stop shaking. It could have been seconds, minutes, or hours later when he laid still in his arms, warm against his neck.

“Samu…” Keiji said quietly, nose and lips tickling Osamu’s skin.

“Mm?” Osamu hummed, rubbing his fingers on the back of his neck with light pressure.

“I really care about Bokuto.”

A hairline crack formed on his heart. “I know,” Osamu whispered wistfully into his hair.

Keiji paused. The moments of silence were too long for Osamu to bear. “I care about you, too, and I think I… need you,” he said slowly, lifting his head to look at him, faces inches apart. 

Osamu slipped his hand in between the pillow and Keiji’s cheek, cupping it and brushing his thumb across his skin. “You don’t have to say anything right now, Keiji, I just want you to be okay. Are you in pain still?” he asked, looking at the face of the man he loved so tenderly and openly like it was the first time. His eyes were puffy and red, lashes clumped together with drying tears. Osamu had missed looking at him. He allowed himself to think that Keiji was beautiful. It felt good. 

“No,” Keiji answered, truthfully. He looked back at Osamu, mulling over the confession. His gray eyes were always honest, so as Keiji stared back into them, he knew. Osamu would always be there, no matter how far Keiji strayed. No matter how long he was gone. No matter how badly he messed up, or how much he hurt him. It was a dangerously self sacrificing kind of love, one that could break him. And Keiji thought he understood what Osamu had felt when they were apart.

Osamu smiled. “Let’s get some rest, then,” he said. 

He let go of Keiji to get up and partially undress for bed, but as soon as he moved Keiji’s arms wrapped around his waist and he looked up at him with wide eyes. He paused and rubbed his shoulder reassuringly. “I’m just gonna change, hang on.”

Keiji let go hesitantly and watched as Osamu slipped out of his pants and pulled off his shirt. He turned back to the bed to fold his clothes haphazardly. Keiji stared at his body, inspecting it in a new light. His broad capped shoulders lead to an expansive chest, which then narrowed at the waist around defined abs, and set between deep V-lines was a trail of dark hair.

He buried his face in the pillow. He wondered if his mind was just too worn out to think of anything but the most base urges. Everything was hazy right now, but Osamu’s pheromones were calming him down, making him feel safe and protected.

Osamu flicked off the lamp. He climbed over Keiji into bed behind him, and then pulled up the duvet and tucked it under his chin. Cautiously, he wrapped his arm around his waist loosely, smiling contentedly when Keiji wriggled back into him. His other arm splayed out on the pillow above Keiji’s head, nestled perfectly against his chest where he belonged. 

Being in bed with him again was soothing, but his pent up energy from the stress of the situation before was itching to be channeled somewhere else. He became hyper aware of the sound of their breathing. Since they’d last slept together, many things had changed, and Osamu had thought about Keiji in ways that were polluting his mind at that moment. He tried to fall asleep, but his eyes remained open, staring ahead in the dark while he inhaled Keiji’s scent, and felt his body pressed against him. His breath hitched when Keiji shifted slightly so that his lower half rubbed against his crotch.

Keiji laid there wide awake, a livewire, his instincts taking over as Osamu’s pheromones enveloped him and comforted his stress and pain from before. He was sheltered by this alpha, his alpha… he wanted him to stay, with him, and only him. He pressed back more, holding in a sound as he felt the bulge so close to where his body wanted it.

Osamu heard Keiji exhale through his nose, and swallowed as he inadvertently tensed up. He held perfectly still. Keiji moved again. 

His speeding pulse and increasingly loud breathing made him fear that there was no way Keiji wouldn’t notice. He was trying to think about anything besides the ass to dick contact. He was failing to think about anything besides the ass to dick contact. He reluctantly began to tear himself away from Keiji to avoid being compromised and opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t have the chance.

“Samu…”

Keiji twisted his head back, and Osamu rushed to meet his lips. 

They held a long, simple kiss. Osamu’s first. He lifted his hand to Keiji’s face automatically. Keiji broke away and rolled onto his back while Osamu remained propped on his side, leaning on his elbow dug into the pillow. 

Keiji gazed up at him in the dark, catching his breath for a moment. Then he reached up with both hands, placing them on either side of Osamu’s face, and guided him closer again. 

Osamu let Keiji lead him. His mind was racing, trying to keep up with the feeling of their lips sliding together. He mostly held still, allowing Keiji to show him what to do. Keiji swiped his tongue across his top lip. Osamu opened his mouth for more. 

His senses were overwhelmed as Keiji’s continued to release his pheromones in waves. Light honeysuckle, jasmine, cool menthol, and a hint of citrus. Osamu’s body responded involuntarily, his own scent growing stronger as he took his turn gently prodding his tongue inside Keiji’s mouth. Tension began to coil in his gut at an alarming speed, and a small moan slipped out of him. 

In an instant he climbed on top of Keiji, pinning him to the bed and caging him there under his body. He dotted kisses down his jaw, all over his neck, his collarbones. He almost hesitated before continuing, but he couldn’t stop. Keiji’s scent was enthralling, possessing him to keep going without concern for where he let his hands roam. His hips sank and Keiji gasped when their cocks brushed against each other through thin cotton.

He started to drag his wrists across every inch of Keiji’s skin, rubbing them against him to drown out Bokuto’s scent. He desired to cover Keiji completely; for Keiji to only be his, right now, for the night, for forever. He started to lose track of where he was and what was happening, drunk off of the way Keiji smelled now, white floral scent crushed by Osamu’s dominant sandalwood. 

He pressed his teeth to the crook of Keiji’s neck and inhaled.

“Samu,” Keiji huffed, pushing against his shoulders. “Don’t.”

Osamu froze and regained a fragment of focus at the sound of Keiji’s voice. 

He lifted his mouth and stared down at the man beneath him, breathing hard and trying to piece together his thoughts. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, panting and throwing himself off of Keiji, head pounding. He raised the back of his hand to his forehead and winced, attempting to regulate his breathing. 

Keiji rolled onto his side and latched onto Osamu, throwing his leg and arm across him and nestling his face into his neck. “It’s fine. Just... wait,” he whispered into his skin, stretching his neck against Osamu’s shoulder and rubbing slightly to leave his scent there. 

‘Wait.’ It had never crossed Osamu’s mind to mark Keiji before, but in that moment he had barely been able to let go. He suddenly felt shy, embarrassed at the way he had almost lost control over something so precious to him.

It was pleasant to smell Keiji now, covered in his scent like never before. His heart still thumped as Keiji relaxed next to him, but he began to calm as he felt his light breaths against his skin. He turned, tucking Keiji into his chest and wrapping his arms around him, rubbing a hand across his back again. 

“Let’s go to sleep, Samu,” Keiji mumbled against him. “I’m sorry I got carried away.”

Osamu pulled him closer and ran his fingers through dark hair. “No, I did. But it was nice. I like how you smell now,” he said, somewhat covertly continuing to scent up and down Keiji’s back with his other hand.

“Mm. You too,” Keiji whispered, nuzzling his face into his sternum. 

Osamu listened to him fall asleep in his arms, never ceasing the pattern of his fingers against Keiji’s scalp. He didn’t risk sleeping himself until the other man was sound asleep next to him. Just before he was about to pass out, he remembered his earlier promise to the oyabun. He reached for his phone, trying not to disturb Keiji, and opened his messages. It was after 4 AM.

_I’m with him. He’s okay now._

As he let himself finally drift off, he clutched Keiji tighter, as he did every night. He’d never let go again.

**Author's Note:**

> Next chapter will go into detail on Akaashi's heat, their happily ever after, and finally a sex scene. Thanks so much for reading!


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